


The time that is given us

by Gepo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 11:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7100701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gepo/pseuds/Gepo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A magical explosion throws Harry through time. He ends up not ten or twenty years before his time but a hundred, placing him in 1932 as a general of the British troops. He can't remember why he is there, if he had a purpose or if it was an accident. So how should he use this opportunity? Should he let it pass, knowing people will end up happy? Or should he intervene?<br/>I tried doing justice to the seriousness of these questions as well as the fact that part of the story will be playing in WWII. This is about family and love despite feeling grief, anger and being afraid of the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awakening

Harry rolled to his left, a smile gracing his lips. But instead of a warm body he found only cold sheets. He scrunched up his nose, sat up and looked around. Huh, okay ... where exactly was he? The room was done up in an inviting brown, all kinds of woods with no paint on them. Even the bedding was brown. The only color came from the striped yellow-and-red curtain which looked like it came right out of a movie from a time where movies weren't even invented yet.

„Ginny?“, he called into the room, even though he didn't really expect an answer. It was years since he had last smashed his brain with alcohol, so that couldn’t be it. Also, as head auror he did not go on active missions anymore, so a stray curse was unlikely as well. He must have been struck with an obliviation charm. But by whom? And why had he been left here, seemingly in perfect condition except for his memory loss?

Harry sighed deeply. Well, he would not find out by lying in bed. Time to gather his belongings and leave. He went into the bathroom and found it stocked with a toothbrush, toothpaste and a shaver but nothing else. Oh, yeah, some shower gel and shampoo. Remarkably empty. Maybe it was a hotel room? He looked into the mirror and recoiled.

Okay, who the heck was that? This wasn't his body, he would never look this ... well ... actually, he looked pretty ordinary. Not fat, not thin, not muscled, not a beanpole. He had brown, slightly thinning hair, and morning stubble. He was in the body of a quite average-looking guy. A middle-aged white male with no distinguishing features. Maybe not even middle-aged, rather more a guy in his thirties. At least he had not liked being called middle-aged when he was this old.

„Well, well, who am I?“ Harry stepped out of the bathroom and looked for accessories like a wallet, a phone or a passport. „Bingo“ He found a wallet and some keys lying on a sideboard next to the door. The door of the bedroom, so it was most likely a hotel in which he was staying. The keyring only held three keys; one an antique looking car key and two normal door keys. He opened the wallet, which held twenty pounds and some small change as well as some papers. He stared at the papers for a second, dreading to open them.

That curtain, the car key, identification papers ... it couldn't be, could it? He opened the paper that said personal identification on top. Grenmore Horten, born April 23th 1894. Harry took a deep breath. 1894. And he was in his thirties. Coupled with those horrific curtains he must be somewhere in the 1920’s or 1930’s, trapped inside the body of a muggle. How did he get here?

More importantly, how would he get back? He had to find the Ministry. The Unspeakables would know what to do. Or maybe ... wait, thirties, that meant Dumbledore was alive and in his forties or fifties or something like that. He would be a teacher at Hogwarts or maybe he was already headmaster, and McGonagall would still be a student and-

Harry froze in place.

And right now, Tom Riddle was a small boy.

He sat back on the bed. Maybe that was it. Maybe they had found a way to time travel him here, so that he could stop Voldemort before he ever became a dark lord. He must have agreed to that, and the time travel must have cost him some of his memories.

So what was his mission? To kill Tom Riddle? Most likely not; he would never have consented to killing a child. He had three of his own, no one would ask such a thing of him. Bloody hell, couldn't they have sent some instructions through time as well? They had most likely told him how to get back too, but he had simply forgotten. Harry sighed again. No use crying over spilled milk. He would have to contact the Ministry anyway, and maybe the Unspeakables had a device for talking to people in the future.

But first of all, he had to find out who and where and when he was. He opened his drawer and found some underwear, two pairs of trousers and a few shirts. On a clothes hanger there was exactly one jacket, but not a single coat. Either he had left England and was somewhere unusually warm or this wasn't his primary residence – hopefully. Seeing as there were no personal items anywhere, it was most likely the latter. His personal identification stated that he lived in Bath, an English city in the Southwest. He opened the door and found that none of his keys fit it. Well, where did people put their room keys? He looked on the bedside table and grabbed a pair of trousers hung over the back of a chair. He found the key in one of the pockets. He also found a notebook which revealed itself to be a calendar. The marking strap was on 21st of July. A day with two appointments, one with a barber, the one afterwards with an Officer Standen at an address in London. He looked at the days leading up to and following this day. He had had a few meetings with military officials these last few days if today was July 21. But he would have to find that out for certain by buying a newspaper.

So he was most likely in London. That made things easier. He put on the jacket – having to acknowledge that it was quite a fine suit jacket – and took the wallet, calendar, keys, and papers with him.

Taking the staircase, he counted three floors to ground level. He seemed to be in a nice hotel with carpeted floors and clerks in black suits. The lounge even had a newspaper rack, so he could read one without leaving the hotel.

July 21st 1932. Oh well, he had guessed correctly. Thirties then, just a few years before the Second World War. And he was somehow in contact with high ministry officials, even owned a car ... that did not bode well. At this point he was surprised not to have found a uniform in his room. Did he remember a Grenmore Horten from school? No, they hadn't exactly been taught about WWII in elementary school. He looked at the clock and checked the time while consulting his calendar. He had about an hour until his appointment with the barber. For now he should most likely stick to the schedule so kindly provided to him. He went up to the clerk who seemed pretty impressed with Harry – or rather Grenmore Horten – and asked for directions. The barber seemed to be just down the street while the officer on his list wasn’t so near. The clerk showed him a map which he asked to take with him. When the clerk told him that it cost three shillings, Harry froze for a second. Of course, this was 1932. Everything had a completely different price. Wow, twenty pounds, that must be ... he must be quite rich. Well, he owned a car, so of course he was rich.

„Can you tell me where I parked my car? I seem not to remember.“

„But of course, Sir, your Ford is parked right in front of the hotel. It is the only car, you can't miss it.“

Oh well, easy. A Ford. Most certainly not an automatic. Hopefully he would not have to manually start it. He should have a look at his car before seeing the barber. He took the map after paying – which wasn't easy, the money looked completely different – and stepped out. For once it was not raining, for which he was instantly thankful. Finding his car was abnormally easy since it was the only car on the whole street. A cobblestone street- at least it wasn't mud. Driving without any kind of suspension on these streets would be a horror. Well, at least he had a car. Even if it looked like the first one ever build. It had a roof at least. Ford Model A. Huh, that most likely meant it was the first Ford ever built.

What had he gotten himself into? Oh well, nothing to do about it. He should head to the barber first.

 

A shave, a haircut and a face massage was five shillings in total. The money in his wallet must have been more than an average labourer got in a whole month. He would have to be on his watch not to get robbed. Of course he had no credit card, so the cash was about the only means he had to survive, seeing as Mr. Horten had not written down which bank he frequented. While getting his hair trimmed Harry had read through the whole calendar. He seemed to have been in the military up to now, so he was most likely a World War One veteran. That did not exactly sit well with him; he had no inclination to fight in the second one. He would have to see what his meeting with Officer Standen would lead to. Maybe he could quit before the second war? Even though he hoped he would not have to stay that long anyway.

He took his car- which was surprisingly intuitive to drive- even though driving manually was a hassle after all these years. Reading the map was also easier than he expected. Central London was a lot smaller than in his time and no one had a problem with him stopping in the middle of a street. There weren't too many cars on the roads anyway and carriages took a wide circle around him. Damages to a car would be a life-changing cost in these times. He finally found the Office of Internal Military Affairs in which this Officer Standen was waiting for him. He went in and asked at the desk where to find the man. The friendly young women receptionist brought him to the right door. Harry was surprised how nice everyone was but, well, that might have to do with having all that money. Did they expect tips?

„Major-General Horten“ The young officer saluted. „It is an honor to meet you.“

„I am pleased to meet you too, young man. At ease.“ Hopefully all those military movies James liked to watch had something to do with reality.

„Thank you, Sir“ Standen moved back behind his working table. „We were all sad to hear about your leaving us.“

„Life always has more in store for us“ Harry replied blandly. And where would he be leaving to?

„I prepared all the papers for your retirement“ Standen looked up to him like some of his trainees would from time to time. „Are you sure you want to end your career? With all your honors, you could be Field-Marshall in the next war.“

„That is too high an honor“ Actually he had no clue about military ranks. „But one great war was enough for me. It is time for young souls like you to take up my work“ Thank God for all the speeches he had had to deliver as head auror. Such patronizing nonsense easily came forth from his lips by now.

„I am so glad I was able to meet you, Sir“ The hero worship glowed in Standen's eyes.

„Yes, so, about the papers ...“ Good thing this Mr. Horten had already initiated his retirement. The next war would most likely have killed him. Come to think of it, Bath wasn't the safest place either. Maybe he should move his host's body to thank him for lending it.

He read and signed some papers which released him from the military to begin a whole new life. Harry didn't know what Horten had planned for himself but following the schedule, he would most likely find out.

But first of all, he should find the Ministry and try to contact his future self.

 

Shit. Double shit. Triple shit.

In his present form he was without a doubt a muggle. A non-magical creature – and therefore unable to get access to the Ministry. So what were his options? He could go to the Leaky Cauldron, and risk obliviation again. But really, what else could he do? There were no other options. He could only write himself a note to remind his future self of what he knew and what he was planning to do before going there.

Nodding to himself, he did just that before setting off to the shady parts of London. He parked his car well short of his destination because it would create rumors in that part of town and walked the rest of the way. Horten must have taken a bullet to the hip in the war, since it began to ache after he had walked for a short while.

He entered the Leaky Cauldron and saw someone who looked a lot like Tom behind the counter. He went over and was roughly greeted before he could say a word: „Not exactly yer part of town, isn't it, Mister?“

„More like exactly my part of town“ He sat down and leaned a bit over the counter. „Are there muggles in earshot?“

The bartender nodded in the affirmative, then gestured towards the door leading to the kitchen while whispering: „Follow me.“

Wow, this was even shadier than in his own time. Right at this moment he direly missed his magic. But his inability to locate the Ministry only confirmed what he had suspected: In the body of a muggle he was a squib.

„Who are ya?“, asked the bartender as soon as they were out of sight.

„First, cast a silencio on the door.“

The man cocked an eyebrow but did as he was asked.

„Right now I am a squib, as you can see. I am a wizard who was transferred into the body of this muggle. I need to reverse this, but for that I need to get in touch with the Ministry. But as I am right now, I obviously can't.“

„Sucks to be ya, doesn’t it?“ The bartender crossed his arms. „What's in it for me to get ya there?“

„A pound for your time“ Which was a lot more than it was worth but he did not exactly want to have to go around town repeating this story. „And also for your silence on the matter.“

„Done“ The bartender's eyes were as large as platters. „I'll get Daisy to tend the bar, just a sec.“

Nice. A fast-working man. Harry used the time to spare a thought for Ginny. Did she know where he was? Did she know there was a chance he might not come back? Had he properly said goodbye to her and the children? He sighed and rested his eyes for a moment. Lily was still so small. Not exactly a kid anymore but also not a teenager. Would he miss seeing her grow up? Would he not be there to be snarky to her future boyfriend? He had to get back. He had to discover his mission, complete it, and return to his own time.

 

„There is no device invented yet which can sent messages into the future.“

Harry groaned. Hours of explanations so he could finally meet an Unspeakable and then this? He argued: „Can't we simply write a message which will still be there in the future?“

„Mr. Auror“ He had not given them his name. „Everything you do, everything you say creates a time warp which changes the future. Every second you breath you create another future. By now the future from which you were sent back in time might not even exist anymore.“

Harry froze. James, Albus, Lily ... he might already have killed them all by going back in time. Had he already changed history? He said: „But ... when you use a time turner, whatever you do also already happened in the time you came from. There is only one timeline.“

„Yes, time turners have a special magic on them which holds the timeline together. You cannot change history with a time turner. But you did not come here with a time turner. You came here specifically to change history. So whatever you do will change history. You must expect that your timeline does not exist anymore.“

„That can't be what I wanted“ Harry shook his head. „I never would have willingly consented to that.“

„It might have been a magical accident“ The Unspeakable laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. „From what you told me to prove your story, you were one of the highest ranking men outside of the Minister of Magic himself. You know more about our department than our current Minister of Magic. You might have been testing something which threw you into a magical time loop. As you know, most of the devices we use down here are unstable.“

„In my time, we accidently destroyed your time room. There were no time devices left“ Harry mumbled.

„Which should convince you that your presence here among us was most likely not planned“ The Unspeakable sighed. „I am sorry for your loss. It is hard to tell you this, but you will most likely never see your own time again.“

He felt dizzy all of the sudden. He looked for something to grab onto to keep himself standing, and settled for the hand on his shoulder which had been there for the last bit of the conversation. He had never found Unspeakables particularly emotional but this one, at least, had a heart. He offered a handkerchief when Harry laid a hand over his eyes.

„Would you tell me about your future?“, he asked after giving Harry a minute to compose himself.

„No“ Harry gave back the handkerchief he hadn't even used. He would not cry. Not now at least. „If there is any chance of it still happening, I would ruin it by telling you. Maybe when I am sure it never will.“

„As you wish“ The Unspeakable nodded. „Wait a moment, I want to give you something.“

Harry waited even though he knew the Unspeakable might throw a curse at him to make him talk any second. Some of them were like that. Curiosity over common sense. But what good would running away do? They would find him anyway. Right now, he was a threat to his own existence but he was unable to do anything about it.

The Unspeakable returned with some kind of pendant and said: „This won’t give you back your magic but it will restore your status as a wizard. You will feel magical to other creatures and objects, so that you can enter magical areas like the Ministry.“

„Thank you, that is most helpful“ Harry replied in all honesty. It really was. How thoughtful of the other.

„I want you to remember me with kindness, so that you will tell me everything the next time you come here“ Oh ... well, at least he was being honest.

„What is your name?“

„Henry Potter“ Oh God ... then this man would be his great-grandfather or something along those lines. His great-grandfather had been an Unspeakable? „What is yours?“

„I might tell you next time. But if I tell you now I'll change history“ Harry sighed. „For now I will have to be Grenmore Horten.“

For now and forever.

„Farewell, Mr. Horten. Until then.“


	2. Number 1

He had cried that night. In the dark of his room, he had remembered his wife and his children and his friends, now perfectly aware he would never see them again. He still remembered the day he died. He remembered going into that forest and being killed. He remembered how he had said goodbye to everyone in his head, knowing he left them for a reason. Knowing he would never see them again for a reason.

But this was just completely unreasonable. Being here served no purpose. Killing his future, himself, his children, just by existing ... maybe he should die. Let everything take it's course. Maybe his grand-greatfather was wrong and his being here was only an unimportant event in history. If he was to die here and now, would everything happen how it was supposed to?

He did not know. He could not know.

But was it really important? If it came right down to it, could he kill himself? He shuddered at the thought. No, he was here now, he had to make the best out of it. Maybe he could change some things for the better. He nodded to himself and stood up to flip open his calender.

22nd of July, he was supposed to drive back to Bath. Tomorrow he was to meet some carpenters for a refurbishment of his house. After that his calender was blank. He had no plans past his retirement. It sounded like he inhabited the body of a life-wary man. Well, he might be, he had most likely seen a lot of death.

Harry decided to pay Diagon Alley a visit before following his host's plan. With the pendant, he should be able to go there, should even be able to aquire an owl. He had to contact Dumbledore. And to be honest, he needed company to stop himself from going crazy.

 

His Eastern Screech-Owl was certainly as pureblooded as an owl can be when it came to the noises he made. Hedwig had been such a nice owl, just being at his side through everything – most important of all: silently. This one going by the name of Phoebus was far from silent. But he was bound to Harry and that was the most important. And he was a cute bit of fluff, Harry had to admit. He even settled down after an hour of driving.

Which brought up another problem Harry had not exactly thought about: Where did one get fuel in this era? There weren't any petrol stations on the road. Harry was not even sure they were invented yet. He leaned out of the window and asked some people in the next town he passed. They sent him to the apothecary. He felt a bit silly asking for petrol in an apothecary but they actually had some in stock. Well ... after this he could write a whole new kind of road trip. It was as surprising as the fact that this car could go up to a 100 km/h. He had expected to be happy about reaching 30 km/h in a car from the thirties but far from it. He had to learn a lot about this time and to erase some prejudices.

It was nearly evening when he reached Bath and felt quite stupid for having to ask around for the location of his house. At least he had the address from his personal identification. What he found was a mansion with a live-in cook and maid called Margret. She immediately noticed he did not know her name but had no problem telling him again and freely giving the information that she had been employed for a few weeks now in which he seemed not to have been home a lot. He tried to get more information out of her by subtly asking if there had been any changes lately and she gave information about neighbors, the head of town as well as some local projects. Her lack of mention regarding a wife and children left Harry relieved. She did not even comment on the presence of an owl, she only asked it's name and how he should be fed.

With a sudden stroke of genius Harry asked: „Were you instructed on financial affairs and how to get the money for maintenance and food?“

„As well as my salary, of course, Sir. I go to the bank twice a week before going to the market.“

„Splendid, why don't we go together next time? I have to reacquaint myself with the town. I feel like I have been away for years.“

„Of course, Sir“ She actually seemed happy about that. Maybe she was lonely, living here all by herself. „Normally I would go the day after tomorrow.“

„That goes well with my plans, I am meeting some carpenters tomorrow. Did you have some wishes about changes in the house?“

„Oh, um ... well, there are some things which need to be repaired.“

„Can you write me a list?“

She fidgeted and said: „I'd rather show them to you, Sir.“

Oh ... maybe she was unable to write. He had not thought about that. Different era, he should remember. He nodded and said they would do that in the morning. At the same time he remembered he did not even know what the house looked like in general and said: „I will only make a small inspection now.“

Good excuse for looking at everything. She seemed a bright girl, seeing as she asked immediately if she should bring something to write for him to make a list for tomorrow. Might even be a good idea, he did not know why his host had asked the carpenters over and he must run out of luck sometime soon. He was lucky his host had not already begun to set up some sort of business. Even though he might have, Harry would never know about it.

About an hour later he knew the general layout and what he should ask of the carpenters tomorrow. Except for some minor repairs here and there, he wanted an owlery for Phoebus and a fireplace made completely of stone. The one he had seemed unsafe to him and he needed a bigger one anyway if he planned on making Floo travels – unknowing if he even could.

He ended up making a full repair tour with Margret anyway, it would have served no purpose to do another one again tomorrow. After setting up a perch for Phoebus and giving him some meat, Harry fell into bed and slept nearly immediately.

 

The carpenters, some minor businesses, getting an overview over his bank account and buying some things he had been unable to find in his home concluded his next few days. He had not forgotten the importance of the letter to Dumbledore but he had to focus on setting up a basis first.

Finally settled a week after he had woken up in 1932, he finally composed his missile:

 

Dear Albus Dumbledore,

 

you do not know me – yet. Please spare some minutes for a story sounding like it was written by a raving lunatic.

I cannot give you my name nor where I know you from. I can tell you however that I come from the future, nearly a hundred years from now. I was thrown back in time by some kind of magical accident and am unsure what to do now. I went to the Ministry but the head Unspeakable told me there was no way to get back and that the time I came from was most likely destroyed now just by my being here. In my time I knew you as a wise old man who might speak in riddles sometimes but always had good advice. So I am hoping that you can shed some more light on this, either by telling me I might have hope left or by confirming what I was already told. I trust in your expertise.

 

Your future friend who will for now go by the name of

Grenmore Horten

 

Harry sighed after sending the letter via Phoebus. He knew what the answer would be, he had already accepted he would never see Ginny or his kids again but it hurt so much that he clung to hope. Even though he rationally knew that his great-grandfather had told him the truth. Still it was best to confirm the information. A lot of lives depended on it and he would not give them up without second thought.

It would be nice to have a photo to remember them by. Or his wedding band. Anything. He felt like a child again, clinging to a memory, no, an idea of people that loved him. Before he had any pictures of his parents, before he had his friends, before ... before he knew he had magic. The one feeling he remembered from that time was the feeling of isolation. Having no home, no roots, the feeling of being utterly alone, not only missing the living but also the dead.

He remembered how it was to be having no one.

He cried again that night.

 

Dear Grenmore Horten,

 

as you already expected, I can only offer you my condolences. I conferred with every book I could find on the topic but time travel except for the limited version by using a time turner is not invented yet. What you experienced might still happen, but as you were told, I also fear there is a high chance that it will not. I can see that you are trying your best to keep a low profile so that you will not change the future and I think it takes a courageous man to make that decision. Deciding to do nothing is sometimes harder than to take chances. I hope you could tell me more but I completely understand that that might ruin your chance to preserve the future you are trying to save.

 

Your friend now and then,

Albus Dumbledore

 

The note left Harry smiling sadly. He had been prepared to read the words but it changed nothing in their capacity to hurt him. He closed his eyes, savouring the pain for a moment before he sighed and imagined the pain leaving with his sigh. It was a technique he had learned as an Auror and it helped sometimes.

This time it did.

He had to make a decision here and now. Would he keep his low profile or would he actively change the future? The first would not insure that his future would happen. And while he wanted Ginny and their children back, they would not be theirs anymore. His life as Harry Potter was over. He was Grenmore Horten and would be forever more. Right when he did not wish it anymore, his childhood dream came true: He was completely normal.

If he wanted to. He could lead a completely normal life.

Or he could decide to change the future. He could decide to tell it all, to save all the lives of the people who died under Voldemort, he could make them ... he could have them take this burden from him to kill the one that would terrorise them all.

He could take the way of the coward and have some Aurors kill a still innocent child. Harry gave a humorless laugh. No, he could not. He would never, ever tell them, exactly because they would kill an innocent child.

Only over his dead body.

 

Dear Albus,

 

thank you for your kind words. As you have deducted correctly I am a Gryffindor and thereby chronically unable to take the easy way out. I have decided I cannot stand by and let everything happen because there will be another war coming and it will take even more lifes than the one with Grindelwald. I know about him and you, by the way. I also know you lied about killing him but as I understand your reasons, I cannot find fault in it. I am unable to kill the uprising menace as well. It leaves me with the same problem you faced back then: What shall I do? I know who he is, where he is, what he will become. Killing him now and thereby saving everyone is an option but not one I can take. I do not know how to solve this dilemma.

 

Yours truly,

Grenmore

 

Grenmore Horten. He was beginning to accept the name. Everyone in this city knew him, he seemed to be friends with the current head of town and he was a respected member of society. He had enough money to last him a while, so he could decide on what to do. He also seemed to have invested in some businesses, since he had a small income from different sources. Not enough to live this lifestyle and pay Margret on but enough to get him by if he absolutely had to. The question now was what kind of job he could and should do. He still wanted to blend in, so it had to be something a rich, successful and influential man would do. Politics? Maybe some job with the police like he did before? Or he could open a business himself. There was a war coming, maybe he could specialise in uniforms and later change to suits. He did not want to produce weapons, so uniforms were quite a good idea. He should make some inquiries about what he would have to do.

He was outlining his future business when Dumbledore's reply arrived:

 

Dear Grenmore,

 

I am unsettled and elated about what you know. We seem to have been quite good friends if I told you about all of that. Everything regarding Grindelwald is my best kept secret in this era. As you might know, I am and will most likely always be in love with him and I pray you do not have to face that as well. I was unable to save my lover from becoming a foe of mankind, I could only save him from death and until this day I am not sure he would not rather be dead than forever imprisoned. If I had the opportunity to go back in time, I would try to change his mind, to show him the error in his ways and save the life we had. Even if we fought, I was happy back then. I don't know if you ever saw a good side of the one you had to oppose. If not, then please believe that he has one. No one is born evil, it is only what the world makes us into. And even if some are more prone to doing evil deeds than others, being born with a mind able to hurt others does not mean that one absolutely has to do it. If you find yourself in a position able to change him before he falls to darkness, I urge you to do so. Even if you fail, trying is the most noble thing you can do. And most likely the only thing your mind will allow you if you are the man I think you are.

 

Yours truly,

Albus

 

Change him before he falls into darkness. Well, but how? Right now, he was only a six-year-old- oh. Oh … he was a six-year-old orphan. An orphan. Harry could have slapped himself. Of course the boy was an orphan. He detested the place he lived in, he had no friends there and somewhere in his later years he began using magic to terrorise other children. Really, Harry should know what that was like. Living somewhere where no one wanted you, where no one would befriend you, where to only good you could get was seeing someone else more miserable than you were yourself. The solution to that was easy.

He would give Tom a home.

**Author's Note:**

> And a big thanks to my friend Ken who beta'd all this :)


End file.
